Aftershock
by xoxoLee
Summary: It might be hard to believe, but she doesn't always have a heart of stone. Someone managed to thaw her out but even she realizes that there has to be an end eventually. She just wants to get a headstart.


"Damn, woman, can't you get out of the way? There's a man in your presence." No one was exempt from my code of conduct, not even a loud mouthed, sexist Texan. I was leaning toward Helen, one of the make-up ladies in the back, when you came barging in. She was laying down my fake eyelashes carefully, but at the sound of your loud and obnoxious voice, Helen jumped, inadvertently moving the lashes off their intended path. "Oh my gosh, you can't wait two seconds, can you? Helen can do wonders but there's not enough make-up in the world to hide those wrinkles. You're starting to make Moolah look like Jessica Alba."

I could see your teeth grinding, your eyes get sharp and your breath getting faster. You were like an intimidated bull with a cowboy hat. I know, strange description but it's true. "How dare you talk to me like that. Obviously no one's put you in your place." Helen backed away from the chair. She knew not to try and reason with me when I had my attitude ready to go in full force. She also knew not to reason with you either. Apparently, she knew not to look at you, smile in your direction, speak to you or call you anything other than 'Sir', but I digress. That in itself is an entirely different story. I may brush up on it in some way but if not, you can probably think of a story or two in relation.

Anyway, I rose to my feet, smoothed out my dress and stared straight into your eyes. I had to look up to you, but when I finally met your line of sight I was not moving. We had to have been there for a minute just staring, and imaginary line between us, challenging each other to do something. You looked up at Helen, who I assume looked down, and turned around to walk right back to your dressing room. I went right back to the chair, and Helen came out of hiding. We could hear you huffing and puffing and cursing up a storm all the way back.

Later that night, I was drawing myself a bath and eating Swiss chocolate. Another stressful day at work, another night before I had to do the same thing over again. My cell phone, which was on the counter, played whatever popular song of the month, indicating a new call. When I looked over to see what face or name flashed across the screen I saw a jumble of numbers. No one I knew. "Hello?" I asked, my forehead wrinkling unattractively as I stood there confused. It was a member of your entourage telling me that my presence was requested in your hotel room. Business, apparently.

I wasn't sure how you got my number, but I was intrigued. Even more so when the address took me to the Marriott. The room was even more impressive with the nicely polished floor and the fireplace. The champagne flute offered to me when I walked through the door was a nice touch too. "Business?" I asked after I took my first sip. "Very nice, by the way." I tapped the side of the glass to show what I was talking about. Business was on your mind alright. Long story short, there was hardly any love in the room that night but there was an earthquake in New York. As time went by it was hard to tell if the heat on my back was from the fireplace or the aftershock.

I left your room at five in the morning. You had a cigar in your hand and a smug look on your face as you sat on the couch, not bothering to dress or make yourself presentable for a proper goodbye. My stomach was churning, it reminded me of other situations I had gotten into. I felt cheap and dirty when I got back to the room, even worse when I went to the show the next day. The game of the night was figuring out different paths to make sure I didn't run into you or go anywhere near your dressing room. That night, again I received a call that you would like to see me again. Business, again. Were you the one in denial or your assistant? I never had the time to ask you that.

The bed was so comfortable, so luxurious. I told you I liked pillows, soft and fluffy, and you made a call down to the staff. That night I slept in a sea of ten pillows and satin sheets. It went on like that for a handful of months as you know, but now, now I'm sitting on a bed that's too firm, definitely not as luxurious as the rooms you made sure I had, we had. And I'm waiting on a man that rubs me the wrong way in every way. Yes, there's a bit of humor in there. You're probably grinding your teeth right now. When he pries himself away from the mirror, he's worshipping me and everything I represent. He's never going to be you. You just treat me for what I am. A bitch. The only true bitch that can stand by a bastard like you.

Sometimes, especially in this business, you have to cheat a little. We were so good at it, or the people around us were so foolish. Who knows, maybe that was us. No one ever called us on quiet moments between us when we should have been causing a scene about something. No one ever noticed my sudden interest in watch 'Dallas' reruns. We had something, I'm not sure what. All I know is that before we can bask in the glow from the aftershock, something needs to slow down. I'm not sure how you end something like this. Have a great summer? No, I'm joking. I'll see you again if you still want me. Next time we're in New York at the same time you book the Presidential at the Marriott and I won't make an excuse.

People like us are extraordinary, Mr. Layfield. Gosh, I feel like Marilyn Monroe having an affair with a Kennedy.

Yours truly,

Melina Perez


End file.
